We read stories of righteous people facing hardship after hardship, and it just doesn't seem fair. Think about Jacob. After all he went through, you'd think he deserved a little peace, right?
Well, let's dive into a fascinating perspective from Legends of the Jews, a collection compiled by Louis Ginzberg, drawing from centuries of Midrash and Jewish folklore. It offers a powerful explanation for why the righteous often face trials, even when they seem to be on the verge of finally enjoying some tranquility.
The text opens with a contrast: the fleeting power of Edom (often seen as representing worldly empires) versus the eternal reign of Israel, symbolized by the coming of the Messiah. "The standard of the Messiah shall wave forever and ever." This sets the stage for understanding earthly suffering as temporary when viewed against the backdrop of eternity.
But what about those earthly struggles? Why can’t the righteous catch a break? According to Legends of the Jews, whenever a truly pious person anticipates a period of peace, Satan, the Satan – the Accuser – steps in. He appears before God and argues that the righteous are already destined for the rewards of the World to Come, Olam Ha-Ba. Why, he asks, should they also get to enjoy the pleasures of this world?
Think about it: Is it fair for someone to win the lottery if they already have a trust fund? The Accuser makes a similar claim about spiritual rewards. It's a provocative question, isn't it?
This brings us back to Jacob. He had endured so much – the deception of Laban, the wrestling with the angel, the constant sibling rivalry. Just when he thought he could finally relax, tragedy struck again with the loss of Joseph. As Jacob himself laments, "Few and evil have been the days of the years of my pilgrimage."
The text emphasizes that Jacob only truly valued the time he spent in the Holy Land, occupied with the sacred work of making proselytes, following the examples of his father, Isaac, and grandfather, Abraham. This notion of "making proselytes" refers to actively drawing others closer to God, a concept we find echoed throughout Jewish tradition. But even this fulfilling period was cut short when Joseph was taken from him. Only eight years had passed since his return.
What does this tell us? Perhaps it's a reminder that true fulfillment isn’t about avoiding hardship, but about finding meaning and purpose even within it. Jacob's suffering didn’t negate his righteousness. Instead, it highlighted the contrast between the fleeting nature of earthly joys and the enduring value of spiritual pursuits.
The story invites us to consider what we truly value. Are we chasing fleeting pleasures, or are we building something that will last, something that contributes to the greater good, like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob did? And when the inevitable hardships come – as they do for everyone – can we see them not as punishments, but as opportunities to deepen our faith and strengthen our resolve?